A list of things I should not have done as Miss Josie slept:
- Eaten the rose-colored ribbons from her spiffy pumps.
- Chewed on the shoes, removing one of the heels and making a hole in the toe.
- Shredded her grey tights. I couldn’t stop myself. They were delightfully boingy.
- Destroyed her decorative, goose down pillow.
Although I passed an enjoyable evening, I regretted my actions when Miss Josie awoke to the feather-coated destruction of her bedroom. She yawned, stretched, got out of bed, and tripped on the remnants of her shoes. Staring around in horror, she took in the entire scene. It probably looked like a blur since she didn’t have her glasses on. I’d knocked them off her bedside table sometime during my attack on the pillow.
It amazed me she hadn’t heard any of my shenanigans, but Miss Josie slept like a rock. She didn’t even wake up when I licked her toes in the middle of the night, but she was fully awake now, and not happy.
I tried to blend in, hoping she wouldn’t notice me and realize I created this mess, but a black lab covered in white feathers tends to stand out.
“Capone. What have you done?”
Note to self: Some questions are better left unanswered.
I tried to appear as guileless as possible. I wagged my tail (just a little, too much would have been overkill), and stared around the room as if to say, “What on earth happened in here? Wow. It must have been Rocco the cat.”
She didn’t buy it. Miss Josie is so stinking smart. The words she said next nearly broke my heart. “Capone, you are a bad dog.”
My wagging tail stilled as I contemplated the possible repercussions of my actions, but now I faced an additional problem. If I didn’t get outside soon, I would add something both significant and stinky to this whole mess.
I ran to the door, wagging my tail hopefully to convince Miss Josie to let me out. Sadly, she could not focus, both because of the destruction of her room, and because she couldn’t locate her glasses.
Poor Miss Josie. She also searched in vain for the ribbons that once adorned her pretty pumps. If I could have spoken, I would have told her I highly doubted she’d ever use them again. Those ribbons now lay buried somewhere deep inside my intestines.
I whined, then barked, as my need to get outside increased with each passing second. I even scratched on the closed bedroom door but to no avail. Finally, with all hope gone, I circled and squatted.
“No,” she screamed, understanding at last and flying toward me. “Nooooooo.”
She flung open the door, and we raced through the apartment and down the steps. Miss Josie still wore her sheer white nightie, her hair a tangled mess. She didn’t bother with a leash. She also didn’t bother with slippers or a robe. Time was of the essence, and she knew it. We did not have a second to spare.
We made it in the nick of time. If we’d waited a moment longer, I would have messed on the floor of the shop, and I’m sure it would have made Miss Josie even more displeased.
Squatting on the edge of the grassy part of the back garden, relief flooded my body as I finally did my business. My relief proved to be rather short-lived, however, since something had gone terribly wrong. Something was…stuck. I turned, trying to locate the source of my discomfort, and saw it. Rose-colored ribbons dangled out of my behind.
I squatted, walking around the yard, hoping to dislodge the offending items, but couldn’t. Two little ribbons hung out of my backside, fluttering in the breeze like streamers on the handlebars of a bicycle.
Miss Josie didn’t notice at first. She was too busy trying to keep warm. The chill of early fall permeated the bright October morning, making her shiver. She had no shoes on either and hopped back and forth trying to keep her feet from freezing.
When she finally perceived my predicament, I turned away, mortified. What an impression I must be making on her. Not once in the entire two hours of Rules of Being a Regency Gentleman did it address what to do if one had brightly colored ribbons dangling from one’s rectum.
“Oh, no.” Judging by the look of pure horror on her face, she had no idea what to do next either. “I can’t.”
I didn’t know if she referred to the current ribbon situation, or to dealing with me in general. Due to the glazed and shocked look in her eyes, I had a sinking suspicion it might be both.
As I continued to squat walk around the small confines of her garden, she leaped into action. Grabbing her gardening gloves from the potting bench, she approached me with a determined gleam in her eye.
“Come here, doggie.”
I tried to squat walk away from her as fast as possible but didn’t make it far. She got a good grip on my collar and held fast. I looked up at her, miserable, begging her to put an end to my humiliation.
Miss Josie pinched the ends of the ribbons with her gloved fingers and pulled them slowly and carefully out of my anus. I stood utterly still, not moving a muscle, both terrified at what might happen next and elated because it would soon be over.
“Almost got it,” she said softly, concentrating on the task at hand. Within seconds, the ribbons were out. I turned and licked Miss Josie’s face, thanking her in the best way I knew how for relieving my agony. “You’re welcome,” she said, making a gagging noise when she looked at the ribbons. She walked over to the garbage bin, threw them in, and tossed her gloves in as well.
“Come on, Capone,” she said. “Let’s go inside.”
Grabbing the handle of the door, she tried to open it, but nothing happened. I stood next to her, tail wagging, hopeful I’d get breakfast soon but concerned about the expression on her face. The door refused to budge.
“We’re locked out,” she said.
She ran to the wooden door in the middle of the brick wall, the exit to the alley. Rubbing her arms frantically with her hands, she lifted the giant padlock with a groan. “The key is inside the shop. This can’t be happening.”
She played with one of the back windows, testing it, and pushed against the door, hoping it might be stuck and not locked. Nothing. Nada. No dice. She eyed a large rock, and as I wondered if she might toss it through a window and climb in, I heard a noise from next door. Someone was whistling. Miss Josie and I looked at each other for a split second and then charged toward the wall.
“Help,” said Miss Josie. “Please.”
The whistling continued. Whoever stood there didn’t seem to hear us. I barked as loudly as I could. Miss Josie grabbed a ladder tucked into a corner near the opposite side of the garden. She ran back with it, slipping in a pile of fresh poo. She nearly fell, ladder and all, but managed to right herself.
“For Pete’s sake,” she muttered. I understood her distress. I hated stepping in my poo, too, but nothing could be done about it now. Time was, once again, of the essence.
The ladder, tall enough to reach the top of the wall, caused another dilemma since jumping down would be a problem. Miss Josie couldn’t lift the ladder from such an odd angle and swing it over. It was too heavy and awkward. And if she jumped, in her poor, bare, poop-covered feet, she might break an ankle. She did the only thing possible. She stood on top of the brick wall in her nightgown, waved her arms in the air, and screamed at the top of her lungs. I assisted her by barking my head off and running around in circles. Eventually, I heard the voice of our savior, Mr. Nate, from the other side of the wall. Through a small crack in the wooden door, I saw his face as he took out his earbuds and gave Miss Josie a look of pure disbelief.
“Are you okay?”
His eyes scanned her. I gazed up at her, too. She was sort of mesmerizing. Her blond hair hung loose down her back in a riot of curls. Standing on the wall in her old-fashioned white nightgown, she looked like an angel, albeit one with filthy feet.
Well, maybe she looked more like a fallen angel. The nightie, although buttoned up to her neck, became positively scandalous in the bright morning sun. The view left nothing about Miss Josie’s generous curves or long, shapely legs to the imagination, and, for a moment, Mr. Nate did nothing but gaze at her.
She placed tightly clenched fists on her hips, and somehow managed to look haughty. “Obviously, I am not okay. I got locked out, and I’m freezing to death. Can you please help?”
“Of course,” said Mr. Nate, biting his lip in what I had to assume was an attempt not to laugh. “I’d never leave a damsel in distress.”
As soon as he said those words, I froze. Miss Josie was a damsel in distress? If true, rescuing her was a sure-fire way to prove my gentlemanly qualities. Chances to rescue damsels in distress didn’t happen every day.
“I’m not a damsel in distress,” she said, but a woman in her nightie on a wall with poopy feet seemed pretty distressed to me, and she must have realized it, too. Her voice took on a grudgingly conciliatory quality when she spoke again. “But I do need assistance.”
“And I’ll help you…on one condition.”
She gasped. “Are you kidding me?”
As I peeked through the crack in the door, I saw his lips quirk into a smile. “I want to make a deal. I hate this animosity between us. We’re neighbors, and we ought to get along.”
“I agree.”
“I’ve come to the conclusion you don’t like me because you don’t know me. I suspect the same is true regarding your obviously misguided dislike for coffee, and I plan to prove it to you.”
“How?”
“I’ll bring you a different kind of coffee daily, and you’ll agree to keep trying it until we find one you like, or I give up and admit defeat. If that happens, you can go back to drinking your kombucha in peace and I won’t bother you again.”
She scoffed at his words. “I’ve already told you. I don’t drink coffee.”
He stared up at her, squinting in the sunlight. “What’s the harm in trying, Josephine? Are you afraid you might end up enjoying it?”
“No chance,” she said, her words clipped.
“Then you’ll agree to my terms?”
“Fine, since it’s the only way I can get off this wall, but I have terms of my own.”
He raised one dark eyebrow. He looked dashing when he did it, and I wished I could raise one eyebrow. Sadly, I couldn’t, mostly because I didn’t have eyebrows.
“You’re giving me a condition in order to rescue you?” he asked.
“Yes. First of all, let’s be clear. This isn’t a rescue. You’re simply offering assistance to someone in a difficult predicament.”
He snorted. “Okay. So, what’s your condition?”
“You sell coffee, I sell books. If I drink your coffee, you’ll agree to read a book of my choice,” she said, a challenge in her voice.
He considered it. “A book for a cup of coffee? You’re being completely unreasonable.”
“How about a chapter per cup. Fair enough?”
“I guess so. Shall we shake on it?”
She stomped her foot, which seemed like a dangerous move for a person standing on top of a wall. “I obviously can’t shake on it when I’m standing up here. Now hurry before I freeze to death.”
He brought a ladder from his side of the wall and held it steady for her as she descended. When she got closer to the ground, he took her elbow and led her down the final few steps. It was an outstanding rescue. I couldn’t wait until I got my turn to do the same.
“A cup of coffee per day?” he asked, extending his hand.
She shook it, although she didn’t seem thrilled about the deal they’d made. “And you’ll read one chapter a day from a book of my choosing?”
He gave her a little bow. “It’s a deal. I’ll go make your coffee.”
He went back to his café, and I heard Miss Josie muttering as she punched in the code for the keyless entry on the front door of the shop. Within minutes, she marched through the shop and opened the back door to let me in. I was so grateful, I found one spot on her foot not covered in poo and gave her an appreciative lick.
“You’re not out of the woods yet, buster,” she said.
Uh-oh. I didn’t want to be in the woods. That sounded scary.
I accompanied her to the bathroom and waited as she took a hot shower, warming up her body and washing her poor poopy feet. I discovered it’s hard to wait patiently. Waiting is boring. And soap tastes so good.
She stuck her head out from behind the shower curtain to chastise me. Thank goodness she didn’t notice I’d already eaten the spare bar of soap she kept next to the tub, paper and all. “It’s between my toes, Capone. You’re disgusting.”
I gulped, trying not to burp out soap bubbles. Oh calamity. She sounded like my old arch-nemesis Mr. Collins, but how could Miss Josie blame me for what happened this morning? I didn’t lock myself out. She locked both of us out. I only did as nature intended.
Well, except for the ribbons. Nature never intended for me to eat Miss Josie’s ribbons. Or her soap. Or feathers from her pillow.
Note to self: Sometimes I defy the laws of nature.
After she washed, she stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel, her skin warm and damp. I padded over to her and licked the droplets of water on her legs. Yummy.
She grimaced. “Stop it. You’re gross.”
She went to her bedroom to dress, sighing as she took in the carnage. It’s incredible how many feathers can come out of one small pillow. When I’d clutched it in my teeth and swung my head back and forth, the feathers resembled snowflakes falling from the sky. I saw snow on a PBS special once. I wish Miss Josie could have witnessed it, but she may not have appreciated the ethereal beauty of the experience.
She put on a black skirt, thick black stockings, and a white blouse with a narrow black grosgrain ribbon tied at the neck. She looked bookish and yet stylish, especially with her blond hair in a messy bun and her funky, hipster glasses perched on her nose.
She’d found her glasses behind the nightstand, and, thankfully, they were still intact. I didn’t want to be in trouble for destroying those, too. Grabbing a cardigan from a shelf in her closet, she put on a pair of pumps, and headed down the steps as a knock sounded at the front door.
I immediately went into frenzied puppy mode. Was it a stranger? If so, how exciting, and yet potentially dangerous. This could be my chance to show Miss Josie my incredible guard dog skills. She’d be so impressed.
I pushed past her on the steps, clipping her with the strength of a small freight train. Barking for all I was worth, I charged toward the door. Miss Josie let out a squeal and grabbed onto the stair railing to keep from falling.
Oopsie. My bad.
I should have been more careful, but I couldn’t control myself. The mysterious and unexpected knocking at the door unleashed something wild and primitive inside me. I was a puppy on a mission, ready to attack, or maybe just lick someone. Probably the latter.
When I saw Mr. Nate stood outside holding a cardboard tray with two cups on it, I hopped up and down until Miss Josie opened the door. Mr. Nate had come to visit. What could top this?
Jackson stood next to him, looking bored. “Yo, pupster. How’s it hanging?”
I stared at him in confusion, not sure how to respond. “Excuse me?”
He laughed, a rough sound, his little pug face squinching up. “You’re a riot. I forgot you still have your cojones. How cute.”
I checked out the place between my legs. Of course, I still had them. What a strange comment.
Mr. Nate handed one of the drinks to Miss Josie and knelt to pet me. “Hey, big guy. Did you get into trouble today?”
His friendly brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he played with me, rubbing my head and tickling my belly to help me get my wiggles out. An expert dog whisperer, he unfortunately seemed to lack any such skills with the ladies.
Miss Josie, acting even more annoyed than usual, frowned as Jackson sniffed around the shop. She probably wondered if he planned to lift a leg and pee on something. I wondered the same thing myself. Jackson was an unpredictable kind of guy.
“I can’t believe you’re making me drink this,” she said, staring at the contents of her cup.
“Well, I can’t believe you managed to lock yourself outside nearly naked, so I guess we’re even.”
She gasped. “I was not naked.”
He winked at her. “I said ‘nearly,’ and you were pretty close. You should thank Capone for barking his head off. I may not have heard you otherwise.”
Jackson took a break from licking his butt to laugh. “Nearly naked. I wish I’d seen it.”
“She was completely clothed at all times. The important thing is I helped her get rescued.” I sat up taller, now the hero in this saga. What wonderful news.
Miss Josie shot me a look like we were at a formal dinner and I’d picked up the wrong fork. It crushed my pride.
“It’s his fault we got locked outside in the first place.”
“Wait, you’re blaming the dog?”
“Yes.” She told him all about what had happened this morning in detail. The feathers. The ribbons. The willful destruction of property. It embarrassed me, and yet Mr. Nate didn’t seem fazed by it.
“Sorry, but you’re the one who’s to blame for what happened this morning,” he said, and lectured Miss Josie about puppy proofing, having a schedule for meals, and how often I needed to go outside. Mr. Nate knew a lot about dogs. He may have known almost as much as Mistress Sue, but he didn’t know when to stop. Miss Josie’s eyes glazed over.
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” she said. “After this morning, I’m not sure if this is going to work out.”
My heart thumped to a stop in my chest, and I shot Jackson a worried look. He couldn’t quite meet my eyes, and I swallowed hard. Sent home already? This was a disaster.
Mr. Nate sided with me. “He’s a good dog, and he deserves an owner who loves and appreciates him. If you can’t do that, he’d be better off with someone else.”
She blinked, her cheeks reddening. “It’s not that I don’t want him. I’m just not sure we’re the right fit for each other.”
I flopped down on the floor, disheartened. Jackson came over and licked my head sympathetically, a rather kind thing to do. Maybe I’d read Jackson all wrong. Perhaps he wasn’t wholly uncouth.
“Cheer up, buttercup,” he said, then turned around and farted in my face.
Or maybe I’d read him correctly in the first place.
“A gentleman always trusts his instincts,” I muttered under my breath, glaring at Jackson, the scoundrel. I’d been right about him.
I’d been right about Mr. Nate, too. He was honestly upset for me. “He’s going to be a great dog someday, and he’s smart, too.”
Taking my side again. Mr. Nate was a peach.
“Let’s agree to disagree on the last part, but there’s something you don’t quite understand. Anne brought him to me because she thinks I need companionship or protection or something. But she didn’t take into account that I know nothing about dogs. I don’t even know where to start. And you standing there, trying to make me feel guilty about this, is not helpful at all.”
Her voice shook, and Mr. Nate winced. “I’m sorry. I was out of line. I thought you got him on impulse and regretted your decision once you realized how hard it was. I didn’t know Anne got him for you. It’s kind of a weird gift.”
Composing herself, she gave him a rueful smile. “Anne is kind of a weird friend.”
Mr. Nate shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I’m about to head out to the pet store right now. Would you like to come with us? I could help you pick things out. I’m afraid of what you might get on your own. The last thing Capone needs is a princess bed, or a rhinestone covered collar.”
He must have been teasing. A princess bed? Surely not.
“I wouldn’t buy him anything so silly.” She narrowed her eyes at Mr. Nate, but it seemed necessity, in this case, overruled pride. “Are you sure you don’t mind?
“As Capone’s neighbor and friend, it’s my duty. But, first things first, we had an agreement.” He nodded toward the cup of coffee she’d set on the counter.
She glanced around the shop, and as soon as her gaze alit on a book sitting on the table next to her, she smiled. “And here’s your book.” She handed him a copy of Pride and Prejudice. My favorite. I wagged my tail in delight.
Mr. Nate did not seem quite as thrilled. “Jane Austen? Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“Stop whining. It’s a classic.” She took a whiff of her coffee and wrinkled her nose. “Do I seriously have to drink this?”
“It’s a mocha. It’s basically flavored hot chocolate. Even children drink it.”
She didn’t seem convinced. “I’d rather just have hot chocolate.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I’m being realistic.” She took a sip of the mocha and grimaced. “What if you can’t find the right coffee for me? Will this go on and on forever?”
He gave her a crooked smile. “Nope. I’m good at what I do, and I’m good with people, too. Eventually, somehow, I’ll figure it, and you, out.”